


A Requiem For Lost Souls

by SilverShortyyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverShortyyy/pseuds/SilverShortyyy
Summary: Companion piece to The Sorceress’ Requiem. May be a standalone.Bellatrix and Sirius had been put in Azkaban after the First Wizarding War. But back then, when war was still brewing, they had met for the first time after so many years—since Sirius left the family home. He had been up to whatever he was up to, and she had done what she wanted since then. They probably would never have met till the heat of the war, but their paths don’t cross unless at least one of them want it to.





	A Requiem For Lost Souls

She was twenty-seven when they saw each other again. And although he had Obliviated her, she was always more proficient in magic than he was.

He may have had willpower, but she had sheer talent.

She had been walking in the darkness after a mission, her ears tingling with the shrill of tortured screams. Her dagger had been soaked, but she cleaned it up in a nearby park before sheathing it in its dragon leather.

Before she heard any scuffling, she felt a presence.

“Who’s there?”

But more than that, she also smelled cologne.

The moonlight was bright, and lit the cobblestone streets perfectly. That is, until her line of sight was blocked by dark, black fur.

“ _Avada_ —” Then the big black dog had gotten flesh, and the flesh hand had smacked her wand away, and she’d have done wandless magic had she not been shocked by who and what was before her.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing.”

 _Sirius_.

“So the rumors _are_ true, cousin.” She delighted in the effect she had on him, even till then. All it ever took was a little venom snaking out from between her lips.

“Don’t change the subject!” His eyes grew darker, his voice hoarser and angrier. She loved that she turned him into a walking, ticking time bomb whenever she was around. The slightest taunt, the littlest threat, the smallest misstep made him explode. For as long as it was from her.

“Oh, I’m not changing the subject. Simply stating a fact.” She scanned him, from mussed Black hair down to his furious Black eyes, down to his growling teeth and onto his neck bulging with veins. He was furious with her, but then again, he always was. Down her eyes went, onto his chest and onto his stomach, and down— “Just like the fact of you feeling something you aren’t supposed to, dear cousin.”

Rumors not only of his Animagus form were true, but also the rumors of only skilled Animagi being capable of transforming to and back from Animagus form with clothing.

She saw his darkening blush, and the thickening veins not on his neck.

“Stop changing the subject!” She felt it like a Quidditch bat on her leg. And Merlin could she not suppress what came out of her lips. Her hips bucked upward while her teeth pressed down hard on her bottom lip. He was hard and big and thick. And he was _her cousin_. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and although she could see his fury, she could also see something darker brewing beneath it. “How dare you betray those Muggleborns?! You could’ve spared them the pain and just killed them!”

“Dear, dear Siri,” she moaned at the touch, her body moving of its own volition. She didn’t know if he felt it, the way she was opening her legs and grinding her center onto his naked member, but she felt him responding, bit by bit. “Sparing mudbloods are not in my vocabulary. You should know that.”

Every grunt came with every thrust, his member getting more and more agitated and her center getting more and more soaked. Her hand was about to flick to vanish her underwear, having already hiked up her skirts from the grinding, until Sirius pinned her hands above her head.

“You dirty cunt.” He spat, and she could feel between his legs that he said that not only with venom. “What is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with _me_? Ah!” She cooed, his head pushing away the hem of her underwear and sliding between her wet, wet folds. “Why are you so hard from grinding on top of your dear cousin _Bella_?”

“Shut up!” He shouted, tightening his grip on her wrists. All the more she felt him against her, his head squirting onto her skin and his member jerking and slapping her slit. She moaned at the contact, and she could hear his grunt that he tried to cover up with a growl. “You shut up, and you—”

“And I what, dear Siri?” She cooed, and of course, even with him on top, she could very well power over him had she only wanted. “You’ll kill me?”

With his head brushing her folds, he thrusted himself deep into her, eliciting a sharp cry from her blood-red lips. Her insides tightened around him, and he moaned at the sight of Bellatrix Black writhing beneath and around him.

“I’ll fuck your brains out, _cousin_.” He says, and she feels his anger in the pump of his dick, of the growing member now buried deep inside of her. Defeat as it may be called, she moaned at the contact. Lustful as she may have become, she frankly did not care in those moments. Dear, dear Siri was back in her arms. “As if you still consider you and me blood-related.”

His dog overlapped with the human; his spit sprayed all over her face in inhuman quantities, or rather, canine quantities. She’d subject herself to impurity, to beastiality, but he was human then and there, so technically it was just incestuous.

And there wasn’t anything actually wrong with that, right?

“Oh, for tonight, I will.” She cooed, her arms pressed hard onto the cold ground with his body skidding onto hers, him naked and her still clad in clothing. “For tonight, dear cousin Siri, you’re my cousin. And if you get me impregnated, I will so deliciously—”

“—Like what you did to those Muggleborn children—”

“— _Corrupt_ them, as you say, _torture_ them, as you say, and teach them of the ways of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, of the Purebloods, of the ways that you _blatantly refused_ to—”

“SHUT UP, YOU BITCH!” He flipped her so that his front would be to her back, her breasts and her stomach harshly pressed onto the ground, his member furiously sliding— _bruising_ —in and out of her. _Just the way she liked it_.

Not even Rodolphus could figure that out.

He thrusted deeper and deeper, rougher and rougher inside of her, their pants and grunts and moans mixing along with their sweat and juices and _blood_ , because they know the scent of blood and they know it's coming from between their legs, but neither of them care if it's from Bellatrix’s menstrual cycle or if either or both of their organs have gotten ripped.

She hated him. Hated him, hated him. And it felt so good for his hate to be buried deep inside her.

“Harder, Siri.” She cooed, voice already hoarse from near screaming. “Or are you too—ah—weak to—Ah!—fuck my insides UP!”

He pistoned into her, hard and fast and _rough_ , and in that moment she didn’t want anything more than to bear his child and be his wife, be his lascivious, insatiable, slutty whore of a wife.

She would never forget the sight she saw of her and him as a Muggle family, the most twisted story the world could ever know.

“Fuck you, you little BITCH!” He shouted into her hair, and her hair had long been anything but the orderly, prim and proper, elaborate order of curls it had been somewhere before nightfall. Or noon. “You’re so twisted and insane and _fucked up_! You poison everything you touch! You fuck up every person you share blood with! You—”

“Admit it, Siri! You’re just like me!”

“I fuck you in the darkness of an alleyway and you fuck me _back_! What is wrong with you? What is wrong with _me_?!”

“Little Siri!” He pulled her into a tight embrace, their erratic pounding becoming louder and faster and more urgent, until they shuddered against each other, his teeth making a mark on her collarbone and his hands groping her exposed breasts.

He left a mouthful of saliva dripping down her chest from her shoulder, her breasts hanging out of her gown while he pulled out of her.

“Admit it, Siri.” She panted, eyes dark as he is Black, no matter how much he denied it. “You’re just as sane as I am.”

“ _Obliviate_.”

She remembers waking up in her bed chambers, having only the slightest idea where a very, very deep and dark bruise (she knows it’s a hickey though; it was evident to have come from a whole set of teeth) came from, and having her hand dripping between her legs, her moans of a name from a distant star she thought she’d no longer reach.

**Author's Note:**

> I somewhat apologize for using Luna’s trademark line like this. But, well, the idea just came over me and begged to be written. I feel like Sirius acted a tad bit OOC here, since I doubt he would’ve actually gone looking for her like that. But, the piece begged to be written. All that aside, hope y’all enjoyed!


End file.
